Two Lovers Locked Out Of Love
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her whole life. But he looked so sad, like he had loved and lost more than once. Spec piece for the Mentalist 2.0, may contain spoilers. Read at your own risk. Rated T.


**Two Lovers Locked Out Of Love**

**A Jane/Lisbon Story**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. "Two Lovers Locked Out Of Love" is from "I Know You Care" by the amazing Ellie Goulding. The characters belong to Bruno Heller. And I am not Catholic.**

**Rated: T**

**.**

He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her whole life. But he looked so sad, like he had loved and lost more than once. Every line in his face attested to tragedy, the shadow that loomed over him told a story about somebody he cared about deeply. . . a woman that he loved, a girl who he needed in his life to be himself, his better half, maybe. The man sitting at the bar, picking at his omelet with a fork and no intention of eating . . . It was a man who had completely lost his mojo.

She poured him another cup of strong South American coffee and silently said a prayer to Saint Anthony for the separated lovers.

**.**

The new sheriff was the loneliest looking woman he had ever seen in his whole life. She looked like she had seen a glimpse of the most intense love a person could be offered and then had had it snatched away from her faster than it had appeared. The woman dragging a French fry she had no intention of eating through a mound of ketchup looked like she was a half without a whole.

He topped off her coffee and silently offered a prayer to Saint Anthony for the separated lovers.

**.**

He was gorgeous, just like they had warned her. But he was a little worse for the wear, a little rough around the edges. He looked tired and like he was never going to smile again. Luckily, she had the key to making it all better, a one-way ticket that would take him to the United States and consequently straight back into Teresa Lisbon's life.

The young FBI agent tucked her hair behind her ears and went over to the man, carefully rehearsing a speech that would hopefully entice him to take her offer and come back to the real world to do what he did best.

**.**

_All_ the charges against him would be dropped _AND_ he'd have the chance to see the object of his misery again, of his _longing_ again? It seemed too good to be true. But a quick read told him that this Kim Fischer person was telling the truth, if he did as she said, the past would be erased. All would be forgiven; the blood dripping from his book would be wiped clean.

And he'd get to see her again.

Sweet, beautiful caring Teresa Lisbon. The woman he so needed in his life to complete him, the girl who could put him back together again just like she always did. The woman he wasn't himself without. He would take the offer just so he could glimpse into her eyes again, just to hear her say all was forgiven and that everything was going to be okay.

"Well?" The FBI agent asked.

_I implore__of you to obtain for me Teresa. The answer to my prayer__may require a miracle. Even so, you are the saint of__Miracles, _he thought, repeating the words over and over again.

He had lost track of how many times he had breathed that prayer in the past 730 days. He wasn't going to stop until it had been answered completely.

"Well?" She repeated, raising a thin eyebrow and looking at him.

"I'll do it," he answered.

She smiled. "Good."

**.**

It happened in one quick sequence of events. It was like he blinked and then he was back in the United States, he was seeing _her_ again. One look at her and the years, the distance, the lack of contact melted away. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch her, to make sure that _this_ Lisbon wasn't a combination of longing and sleepless nights and not enough food. He wanted to. . .

She looked up and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She blinked a couple times, and he knew she was trying to figure out if _he _was just a figment of _her_ imagination. She just stood there, staring at him, trying to figure out what to do next.

_The answer to my prayer__may require a miracle, _he thought as he forced his shaking legs into gear and started towards her. _Even so, you are the saint of__Miracles_

He was close enough to see the rise and fall of her chest when she realized he _really_ was there. Her cheeks flushed a welcoming shade of pink and she smiled at him involuntarily.

_The answer to my prayer may require a miracle. . ._

"It's you," she breathed, unable to stop herself from falling into his arms. He couldn't tell which one of them was trembling.

"It's me."

"You're here. . ."

"I'm here," he confirmed, breathing her in. She still smelled like cinnamon, still felt like home after two years. He closed her eyes and rested his cheek against her's. "I've missed you so much."

She pulled away and slapped him twice.

"Ouch!" He wailed, looking at her. "What was _that_ for?"

"For not getting in touch! For making me worry these past years that there was something seriously wrong! That you didn't," she paused, pain flashed over her face. "For making me think you didn't care."

"Oh Teresa. . . you don't know just how much I care about you. It's why I stayed away from you all of these years. I couldn't bring you down with me. Couldn't let my sins taint you—"

She brushed her hands over his cheeks, soothing the lingering sting of her slap with a gentle touch. "You're an idiot! Didn't you think for one second that it was _my_ decision to make? All I wanted to do was help you. . . all I wanted to do was love you, even if it meant I had to love you from six countries away."

Then she pulled him into another hug and this time she didn't let go of him for a long time.

It wasn't everything he wanted, but in that moment, it was enough for now.

**_The End_**

**Author's Note:**

**This idea has been wrestling with me for a couple of weeks now. It isn't as flushed out as I would like it to be, but visions of Christmas stories are dancing in my head. So, my mad dash to write this was just a way to sate my muse. **

**Okay, I'm going underground again to concentrate on lovely, Jisbon-y Christmas stories. I'll see you at the end of November!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 11/15/2013_**

**P.S**

**I am not Catholic, so if the references to Saint Anthony are way off, I am SO sorry for royally screwing up!**


End file.
